by the Village Elliott
This year’s league MVPs have been won
By Bryce Harper and Josh Donaldson.
Bryce was unanimous,
Though Nats missed playoff bus,
While Josh powered the Jays’ playoff run.
Where the Tigers Play
by Millie Bovich
If you walk around the ballfield in the darkness of the night
If you let your mind just wander, love of baseball comes to light.
For the ballpark is enchanted and its magic doesn’t cease
Sights and smells and sounds surround it, though it seems at last at peace.
Love of baseball never leaves you, always there at your behest
And the players ever loyal, always there to do their best.
On the wall, the tigers crouching, prowling in protective guard
Watching well for no intrusion of their namesake’s sacred yard.
No flags waving to remind us of the teams that come to play
No lights shining, chasing darkness, making night as bright as day.
You’ll hear cheers and jeers diminished of the season’s games well played
Gone forever, not forgotten, though particulars may fade.
And the dust of sliding runners, safe despite the sizzled throw
In the air it seems to linger as the seasons come and go.
Yes, the losing is quite painful, and the “W” like gold
A no-hit game so special and a happy story told.
Smells of vendors’ foods have lingered as the wafting breeze will show
Stimulating well your senses, scents you miss and love and know.
And the scoreboard shows no numbers, no statistics grace its face
Stats invisible and hidden till next season’s welcome race.
In your eyes the park is empty all the seats in silence wait
For the fans again rejoicing, for the opening of the gate!
Millie Bovich may be the oldest fan and regular contributor to Bardball. “I had the pleasure of meeting All-Star Johnny Pesky when he visited the Detroit office of the FBI where I worked,” she writes, “and met and married a special agent from New York and made a Tigers fan out of him!”
Snake Bit
by the Village Elliott
When promoting men, Napoleon stuck
With this principle, “I look for luck.”
He would not buck the odds
And offend Baseball Gods
Shutting down Strasburg like a dumb schmuck.
Nats seem clueless and snake bit to me
Since the Strasburg Shut-Down travesty;
‘Fourteen’s Playoff Game Two:
Belt’s home run “lucky,” too;
Papelbon trade upset chemistry.
Dusty Baker will manage D.C.
Buddy’s tenure with Nats not to be;
Did Nats react to claim,
That “Black” in Bud’s last name,
Ain’t what league meant by diversity?
Seems like Dusty’s a bit snake bit, too,
Since Jints Series Game Six in ‘Ought Two,
His Cubs sure got jiggley
Post-Bartman in Wrigley,
Posey’s Granny bid his Reds adieu . . .
Months after our softball season’s through,
Pitcher our team beat still had no clue.
“Schedule and your team suck,
Only beat us by luck!”
“Yeah, we’re lucky we were playing you.”
The Books Must Balance
by R.J. Lesch
The books must balance, so accountants say.
For every credit on the books, we must
Record a debit. Bills come in; we pay
Them off and write it down. In baseball, just
The same is true. A hit is chalked up to
The hitter and the pitcher both. A game
Won by my team must be a loss for you.
If we give credit, so we must give blame.
For every Thomson, Branca there must be.
For Mazeroski, Terry. Wilson, Buck.
Gordon and Familia, recently.
Then Hosmer, Duda. Perez, Matz. Tough luck.
The calculus of baseball can be cold,
But books must balance, once the tale is told.
The Decision
by Stephen Jones
He faced a lot of batters in a season,
But none of us knew his demon.
C.C. Sabathia made a decision —
Leave the mound for rehabilitation.
It takes a strong man to make this call —
To recognize that life’s more than baseball.